And It Breaks My Heart
by Veih.nChree
Summary: Just another day in Glee Club. Unrequited Faberry, Quinntana, and Brittana.


**Summary:** Just another day in Glee Club. Rachel Berry sings. Quinn Fabray listens. Santana and Brittany are there too (& other less attractive people but w/e). Angsty unrequited love, woe and alas!

**A/N:** Was listening to "Fidelity" by Regina Spektor and suddenly had to write this, so here we are. Everyone is gay :) ((ps I'm so, so sorry Brittana - I don't know how this happened! Lopez wtf are you doing that's the wrong blonde!))

* * *

Quinn Fabray is pretty sure she just stopped breathing. But no, she quickly dismisses that ridiculous notion. Of course she's still breathing. People don't just stop breathing. And if they do, they faint or something. And Quinn Fabray is very much awake. …isn't she? God, yes. Clever as she is (and she is), her subconscious self can never quite capture that particular spine-tingling lilt in Rachel Berry's obnoxious (gorgeous) voice (not for lack of trying, of course). (Not that she spends a lot of time thinking about Rachel Berry's voice, because she doesn't.) (She doesn't!)

So Quinn Fabray is definitely still breathing. But something suspicious is happening in the general area of her (otherwise flawless) upper torso... something tight and warm and almost painfully full. Maybe she's getting sick. Probably that's it. Probably she has the flu. Or cancer. Probably it's cancer. Cancer of the general upper torso area. So she's dying, or whatever. That's what this is. Definitely. It rather feels like dying, she decides… maybe she should revisit the not breathing hypothesis…

Santana Lopez is trying not to notice that blonde bitch she calls a captain lose her damn mind over Rachel Man-Hands Berry. Because that shit is ridiculous. Furthermore, Santana Lopez is not the type of (sexy, awesome, bad ass) chick to notice shit like that. Like, Santana Lopez would never notice the way Quinn Fabray's body goes rigid the moment that little Kumquat opens her god damn cod fish mouth. And Santana Lopez would never notice the way Quinn Fabray's back arches ever so slightly, the way her perfect golden hair flips left as she ducks forward half an inch, the way the toes of her shoes scrape almost imperceptibly against the floor as she strains against some internal torment. No fucking way would Santana Lopez notice those things. She definitely doesn't.

And even if Santana Lopez did notice those things (which she definitely doesn't), she wouldn't be struggling to swallow the unwieldy lump of despair catching in her throat. Because A: Santana Lopez doesn't fucking struggle, she dominates. And B: Santana Lopez doesn't experience despair, she feels only rage and victory (and the way Brittany's thighs clench against her shoulders right before she comes, but that's neither here nor there). And lastly, C or whatever, Santana Lopez is definitely, absolutely, without a shadow of a fucking doubt in no way shape or form in any capacity jealous of Rachel Transvestite Berry.

Brittany (S.) Pierce, however, who has never been an especially skilled liar, gracefully accepts the flutter of sorrow and the brief sting of envy as she watches Santana Lopez watch Quinn Fabray. (Everything Brittany (S.) Pierce does is graceful, so really, it's only fitting.) There are a lot of things Brittany (S.) Pierce doesn't understand (Geometry, for example), but some things she knows (even if she wishes she didn't). She knows that her hair is blonde and that her skin is pale. She knows that her legs are long and that her handstand is flawless. She knows that her cheerios uniform bunches and clings just right and flicks coyly with every swish of her hips. She knows that her name is Brittany (S.) Pierce and she knows that everyone else knows that, even if Santana Lopez sometimes accidentally calls her Q (but only when they're breathy and naked and tangled together).

Brittany (S.) Pierce takes a moment to lose herself in the way Santana Lopez tightens her jaw and snaps her gum (cinnamon, the kind that burns for the first full minute after you start chewing it) like she just doesn't give a fuck. Brittany (S.) Pierce lets her mind go blissfully blank and revels, just for a moment, in the memory of second-hand cinnamon. It must be more than a moment, though, because suddenly Artie Abrams is clapping (unenthusiastically) next to her, pulling her from her reverie and glancing (condescendingly) sympathetically in her direction like he knows the first god damn thing about her.

Rachel Berry finishes her song and flashes that gold star smile, bowing (graciously!) like there aren't only half a handful of people (reluctantly) clapping for her performance. Rachel Berry is entirely unfazed to note that Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez are not among those making any effort whatsoever to pretend that they enjoyed her lovely rendition of "Fidelity". She is not (really) bothered by this; she has other things to (waste) focus her efforts on, you see. Things like Finn Hudson (who immediately panics and feigns a spontaneous narcoleptic fit when she glances shyly in his directly).

But Rachel Berry is undeterred! Because Rachel Berry is not a giver-upper (oh no!). Rachel Berry is a winner (she's sure of it), and good things come to those who wait (and also to those who continue to hone and showcase their immense talent). So Rachel Berry just tosses her hair over her shoulders, silently (more or less) congratulates herself on yet another dazzling vocal achievement, and skips back to her seat. She smoothes out her skirt and bats her eyelashes and folds her hands primly in her lap. She has a plan (with bullet point summaries and visual aids). She has goals! She will not allow herself to be any of the following: distracted, disheartened, or defeated (or pitchy, but that's beside the point). Rachel Berry is going places. And she's going to win Finn Hudson's heart (again). She's sure of it.

Quinn Fabray is breathing again. But she watches Rachel Berry watch Finn Hudson and suddenly she sort of wishes she wasn't. Breathing, that is. Watching! Watching, she means. She wishes she wasn't watching, obviously, because who would want to watch Rachel Treasure Trail Berry! Not Quinn Fabray. Definitely not Quinn Fabray. Definitely not. Definitely.


End file.
